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  • I sit in bed, balancing a cup of steaming ginger tea, one leg curled under me, the other outstretched, tapping away at the keys of my laptop, 'working'.

    You sleep again, having emerged from slumber some two hours past for a morning of exploration, skin on skin, soft words and urgent hands. I exhausted you, and with a smile you pulled me to your chest and drifted back into the fog, murmuring half conscious words that do not fit together, like puzzle pieces with damp edges. You are amusing to me like this, smiling when I kiss your cheek, or twisting when my nails brush your ribs, as I laugh and we wrestle with my hands, at play, until you win and pin me to your chest, and smiling, always smiling, sink further into sleep.

    You have claimed my right leg for you own, one heavy hand draped across my ankle, you are somewhere away from me now, but if I were to move, you would follow me, your skin sensing my own movements to lazily drift up, perhaps only for a moment, a sleepy smile, a kiss, and your position would change to mimic mine, wrapping an arm now around my knee.

    Little moments, where we proclaim to each other, you are mine, as I am yours.
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